The Mistake Made in the Flower Field
by tristinai
Summary: A carpenter's son and the mayor's daughter. They couldn't come from more different worlds. But all it takes is an illicit encounter to set in motion an experience that will change them forever. Takes place in Colonial America. First time, lovers' tryst. No-powers!Jelsa AU.


**Author's Note:** After nearly a year and a half long hiatus, I finally wrote something Jelsa. The style of this is a bit different, less explicit and more introspective than I am used to writing. I drew inspiration from a real life scenario I had recently experienced, along with answering a much-belated "first time" prompt I had been given last year. Fans of 王力宏 may recognize the use of one of his song titles here and I will admit that the lyrics/themes also contributed heavily to the plot of this one-shot.

 **Summary:** A carpenter's son and the mayor's daughter. They couldn't come from more different worlds. But all it takes is an illicit encounter to set in motion an experience that will change them forever. Takes place in Colonial America. First time, lovers' tryst. No-powers!Jelsa AU.

花田错 (The Mistake Made in the Flower Field)

The moon cast its bright glow across the field, stretching the shadow of the lone tree towards the edge of the wood. That shadow seemed to be chasing the safety of the forest, away from the exposure of the grasslands that made up the outskirts of the village. Out here, everything felt exposed but that was part of why Jack had chosen this place to meet, a place accessible enough by both of them but away from the prying eyes of the other townsfolk.

As he leaned against the tree, Jackson Overland released a shaky breath. Try as he might, he couldn't keep his hands from trembling. It had been a moment of weakness, a stupid moment of weakness, that had brought him here.

"You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you," he berated himself.

But all he had to do was close his eyes and picture her: soft, flaxen hair, always carefully tied back in a bun. Except when he made her laugh. The slight shake in her shoulders would cause a single strand to escape and how many times had he stopped himself from leaning forward to brush that hair back in place?

No, it wasn't just her hair. It was her smile, as rare as her laugh but as brilliant as the sun. He sometimes wondered if she was afraid to smile or if she never found reason to. In public, she presented herself with a somber grace that only added to her mystery but Jack was a curious fool and too stubborn to not seek out the truth behind that mystery.

It was that curiosity that found him in this field, when only hours earlier, he had brushed by her and whispered, "Meet me. After dark. Out by The Tree."

Years of longing but only months of understanding what that longing meant had finally broken the silence he had vowed to keep. He knew Elsa was from a different station, a class of society that a carpenter's son should never be allowed to gaze upon, let alone speak to. But when she had come, for possibly the final time to inquire over a piece of furniture to be added to her mother's boudoir, Jack's gaze had captured hers and he finally became convinced that the longing that ripped through him every time he was within her presence was mutual.

It emboldened him. It made him shatter all societal conventions when he found the confidence to make his indecent proposal.

Worse, yet, the trepidation in her posture was betrayed by the understanding in her warm, blue eyes.

With but a nod, she turned away, her cheeks coloring and her skirts swishing as she left the shop. Since then, Jack's mind played every scenario: from finally getting to taste those lips that brought him such torment to finding his ass thrown out of town for propositioning the mayor's daughter.

He knew what he had done was not proper. Society be damned.

But as the minutes grew longer, he felt his heart sink: she wasn't coming.

With a sigh, his shoulders sagged. The support of the tree was all that held him up as he grew more decided on his inevitable rejection. He had no art in romantic trysts, nothing to offer in his name. She had everything to lose by allowing him the privilege of her presence. So why should this outcome surprise him?

"For one so bold, you seem quite forlorn."

The voice startled him out of his troubling thoughts. But like the light of the sun chases the shadows in the fading night, his dark thoughts disappeared under her gentle scrutiny.

"You came," he whispered, straightening to his full height.

He took a step toward her but she instinctively took a step back. "Y-yes. I…"

He paused, her air of uncertainty grounding him. A question seemed to linger between them but Jack hadn't the courage to ask, for fear he wouldn't like her answer. So instead, the two let silence pass between them.

"I-I sh-should apologize," she stuttered. With a blush, she looked down to her hands, folded carefully in front of her. "I—I fear I have kept you waiting."

"You don't need to," Jack blurted. "I mean….it's not like I waited long. There's just—you know, flowers and—I like looking at flowers…"

Elsa looked at him, a bit confused. Jack reddened as he realized how stupid he sounded. Then, almost unbidden, an unhinged, mirthful laugh shook her entire body. Once he was over his shock, he was joining along with her and it was a long minute before their mirth subsided and they once again became two nervous, would-be lovers, finding both fear and solace in the passing silence.

Jack, who knew that it had been his initial boldness that brought them here, took it upon himself to break the tension. "Elsa…"

She looked up at him sharply as her name escaped his lips like a bated breath.

He stretched out a trembling hand toward her. Her own fingers trembled as she slipped her hand in his.

"Jack…"

He looked at their joined hands, the warmth in her grip a stark contrast to the pale glow of her skin. She seemed to shine in the moonlight, a passing vision that he wanted to lock away in memory for the years to come. In many ways, he was afraid to continue: for every start has its ending and theirs would be anything but good and would arrive too quickly. However, denying her touch any longer would be a torment that weighed heavily on the remnants of his youthful innocence.

He tugged gently, drawing her close. His nervous hand found the small of her waist, resting purposefully there as he looked down into her deep, blue eyes. He was drawn in so deep that he almost forgot to breathe but the hesitant fingers that reached up to push away a few strands of his dark hair brought him halting back.

"You know, I've…uh, always wanted to do that," he admitted, shyly. "Touch your hair, I mean."

She took the hand gripped in hers and guided it to the bun in her hair. With her help, his fingers pulled the bun free and released the French braid until it tumbled down her back. Curiously, Jack ran his fingers down the imprisoned strands.

"It's soft," was all he could manage to say.

His heart beat so wildly, he half-wondered if he had even said it aloud as he certainly hadn't heard himself say it.

"So is yours."

He smiled as he felt her once again tease the ends of his messy hair.

"I've…never done this before," she said quietly.

"Then you're in good company because neither have I," he replied, with a small grin.

He was no longer sure whose nerves he was hoping to chase: hers or his own. But that no longer mattered as she stepped in closer, her chest pressed against his, and looked up at him with more trust than should be warranted, given how little they really knew each other. His gaze dropped to her lips: it was all the invitation he needed.

He leaned down and nearly felt his heart stop when he brushed his lips against hers. She made a small sound, gripping his shirt with an apprehension that he could easily match. But he grew more bold with each moment, his desire for her leading him to press forward until he was carefully laying her in the grass beneath them, his tongue pushing through her parted lips, his body pressing her down. Although they both lacked in experience, something wild and frenzied seemed to awaken and guide them towards the inevitability they had both been privy to upon meeting beneath the tree.

Rutting against her, Jack's lips hungrily explored the exposed skin of her neck, rewarded with the faintest of moans that passed through her swollen lips. "Jack…"

There was a sweetness to how she said his name that made him unravel. He could come undone by the sound of her voice, had done so by his own hand with it whispering in his mind on more than one occasion. It was easy enough in his youth to push himself too far before they had actually began.

With a shuddering breath, he slowed his hips. To his surprise, he felt her own hips press up in protest, her fingers linking through his. She looked up at him questioningly.

"I, uh, need to slow down," he said. It was embarrassing to admit his limits but he could see the understanding in her eyes.

Bringing his hand to the bindings of her blouse, it took a moment for Jack to realize she wanted him to untie it. Each tug of the thread loosened the material enough until he was able to pull the material down far enough to expose her breasts. Nervously, he brushed his thumb over one of her nipples and heard her shudder as the bud hardened. With care, he gripped her breast in his hand, kneading it gently and leaning down to kiss the skin between her breasts.

"Jack," she moaned, fingers digging sharply into his shoulders.

He kissed along the crevice, teasing the skin until he reached the other, neglected nipple. Rolling his lips over it, he heard her cry out and would have stopped to ask if he had gone too far had he not heard the string of moans that followed. Encouraged, he licked coyly at the bud and then suckled on it with a boldness that had red splashing over Elsa's pale cheeks.

He was lost in her, in the scent of her skin, the precious sounds that bubbled over every time he touched her in ways he had only imagined. Her undergarments were strewn around her ankles, his fingers testing the silken feel of her folds, the need to sink into her clouding all reason. For once, he could forget he was a lowly carpenter.

Nestled between her inviting thighs, he pressed against her with a restrain he hadn't known he had. The soft folds of her lower lips seemed to kiss at his erection, tempting him to bring both of them to the point of no return. But he knew the gravity of what had fallen between them, saw it in the way her eyes turned to him sharply. There was a conflict brewing in the storm-filled lust of her gaze.

He parted his lips to ask the only question that nagged at the back of his mind but the next words to pass in the narrow space between them were not his own.

"Don't say anything," she pleaded.

It was a request that deserved questioning but Jack felt her legs draw him in further, pressing him inside of her at an agonizingly slow crawl. He gripped hard at the skirts gathered around her waist but he hardly felt the material between his fingers as euphoria wrapped him in its eclectic hold, a splash of color seeming to explode all around him. He had hardly a sense of anything but the feel of her tight warmth blanketing him and drawing him as close as he could physically be to another human being.

As he pulled his hips back, the resistance became all the more glaring. He looked to her face, suddenly feeling shy, and was surprised to see the tears trickling down the sides of her face.

"Elsa."

Her name was almost like an apology spilling from his lips.

Tenderly, she caressed his cheek. All the words sitting at the tip of his tongue were forcefully forgotten as he remembered her request. Instead, he paused his movements and leaned down to kiss her gently.

"Slowly," she whispered against his lips.

He shyly reclaimed her gaze, pushing into her with more care than he had ever known. It was hard to see her flinch from the foreign intrusion, harder still to not get lost in the need that ached from the pit of his belly, but he also wanted to remember her like this: hair tangled in the wild flowers beneath them, breasts rising and falling with every heated gasp as they built a rhythm only they would ever dance to. The selfish part of him wanted this to last forever, wanted to always feel her hands tangling in his hair as she moaned his name, taste the salty sheen that glistened over her exposed skin.

But that ache only grew as the young lovers became lost in their own forbidden game. Each thrust had him racing for an edge he so desperately wanted to tumble over. Trying as he might to hold back, it only took another breathy gasp from Elsa before Jack was pushing hard into her and crying out into her neck. He braced himself for the release of the maddening ache but his whole world seemed to blur in a swirl of color behind his closed eyes. Emptying himself and riding through the wave that rocked him against her, he shook in her embrace until it had subsided, leaving him more physically drained than he had ever felt.

It was maybe minutes before either of them said anything, Jack a sweating, gasping mess and Elsa gripping him tightly, both of them too afraid to accept what they had just done. But as reality came crashing back, the question that Jack had been fixated on most of the night came roaring to the forefront of his mind and he found himself asking it before he could stop himself.

"Why me?"

Elsa stiffened beneath him. Silently, she pushed against his chest and Jack pulled out of her, biting back a groan. Sitting up with her back to him, Elsa began lacing her blouse.

Jack buckled up his trousers but found himself longing to reach out and pull the few petals that had tangled in Elsa's messy braid. Everything about her posture brought back the truth of their circumstances and it suddenly felt wildly inappropriate to even dare suggest it.

"I will marry soon," Elsa finally said. The coolness of her tone cut into Jack but also had him nearly reeling at its unexpectedness. He hadn't known she was promised to someone else. "In a week's time."

He was surprised by the wave of hurt and anger he felt. But most of all, he was confused.

"Elsa."

She brushed away his hand and stood up. "Don't."

As she began to walk away, Jack stumbled to his feet. "Elsa, wait."

"Just let it go, Jack," she said. "This was a mistake."

But patience was hardly something Jackson Overland was known for and he felt his anger bubble over before he could hold it back.

"A mistake," he shot back, bitterly. "Is that all I am to you?"

"That's all you can ever be to me!" Elsa replied. "I'm getting married!"

"And you couldn't have mentioned that before you let me touch you?"

"You misunderstand me!" she cried. Stopping, her whole body shook and when she finally looked over her shoulder at Jack, he could see in the glow of the waning moon the tears that shone in her eyes. "I have no choice."

He saw something shatter in her in that moment: the fragility of her self-control bowing to the pain that always seemed to linger beneath the surface. The girl who had grown into the woman he loved, the one he had admired from afar but always had a disconnected sadness about her, had finally come undone.

With a sob, she took a step forward and collapsed into his arms. He held her as she cried, whispering gentle nonsense that would neither help the situation nor change it. But she gripped him like a lifeline until it had drained her, her defeat so vastly different than the woman who had given herself to him in a moment of unbridled passion.

"You want to know why?" she whispered, staring up at him sadly. Her voice trembled, "because, when my future husband sees me, all he sees is a connection. My father has sold me to a man I despise for profit."

"But when you see me," Elsa continued, a light of defiance in her eyes, "you really see me. You've always seen me."

 _Always._

When they were but children, Jack a budding apprentice. He watched the sullen girl follow her father into the markets, an almost regal air about her. The only moment that brought a smile to her face was seeing the foolish carpenter's son trip over the tools he had been carrying for his father.

The span of years was comprised of these moments, so infrequent but so dear to him.

"I didn't think you noticed," Jack said.

 _Nobody ever notices me._

"I did," she said, with a watery smile. "You are my choice, Jack. The only choice I'll get to make in this life. And I'll be damned if I let them take that from me."

"Elsa…"

Gripping her tightly, his lips were soon crashing against hers, the unsaid apology becoming the fire that raged a final time between them. In that final embrace, Jack gave himself over to her completely and knew he would never love someone the way that he loved her. As they reluctantly pulled apart, she gazed up at him one last time and said the words that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

"Goodbye, Jack."

The finality of it weighed heavily on him as he watched her turn away. He watched her until she disappeared into the shadows of the late night, fading into a place where not even the light of the moon could follow. Like that lone tree in the field, Jack stood until night broke into day but even he couldn't admire it through the cloud of tears that dripped silently onto the disturbed wild flowers.


End file.
